


The Bellevue Stakes

by fem_castielnovak



Series: WORST HUNTING TEAM EVER [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, My thoughts exactly, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 13:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5586715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fem_castielnovak/pseuds/fem_castielnovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We open on Tim and Doug in a diner, preparing to eat and gamble.</p><p>The extended edition of the original post</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bellevue Stakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Powerfulweak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/gifts).



> Written at the behest of Powerfulweak. I can't say I would have come up with anything like this otherwise :D

 

 

“Ugh, I never truly appreciated how nice the bars were that we used to meet in.”

Tim wipes at the corner of his mouth with a paper napkin and nods.

“We should go back to doing that. Why don’t we go back to doing that?”

“You know why.”

“I’ve forgotten," Doug replies dryly, "Remind me.”

Tim frowns, “I thought we were having fun.” He watches as Doug pokes at his spaghetti with a knife. “I know that watching the Winchesters and Castiel parading around isn’t the most enthralling activity. But it’s certainly better than anything going on in Heaven or Hell.”

Doug inclines his head and raises his glass, “Walking away was a wise decision.”

“Mmm,” Tim squints and looks off thoughtfully, “I can only think that one of us would be dead by now if we hadn’t.”  
When he returns to himself, Doug is grimacing at the still mostly-full plate. It’s something the two of them often face given that neither of them actually needs to eat.

“Why don’t _they_ meet in nice bars?” Doug asks.

“I’m going to pretend that question was rhetorical.”

Doug sniffs somewhat indignantly, “It was.”  
Tim opens his mouth to respond but the demon startles and looks to the front of the café, “Here they come.” They both turn to face the door as it swings open.

 

“ _Nice_ , Sam,” Dean can be heard chastising the taller man.

“Don’t stand in front of the entrance if you don’t want to be moved out of the way.”

Dean rolls his eyes but continues to hold the door for Castiel.

 

The demon and the angel duck their heads in an effort to look inconspicuous.

Tim leans in, “The usual bet?”

“Of course. The beer always does taste better when you’re buying.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Mmm,” Doug nods towards the trio crossing the room in search of a table, “You’ve got first move.”

Tim squints, analyzing Castiel and Dean’s proximity. Doug watches Sam’s intentionally longer strides.

“Dean’s going to pull out the chair for Castiel who’s going to cop a feel when he slides by.”

“And I say that Sam’s going to push them both out of the way to get the seat that isn't under the air conditioner.”

They watch earnestly as Sam slips into the seat which is indeed furthest from the A/C vent.

“That’s a point for me.”

Dean jumps as Castiel passes behind him to get to the inner chair.

“And one for me.”

“Half a point.”

“Fine. Who’s going to make the first move on the waitress?”

“Wai- _ter_. And he’s hunky and a brunet, so, Dean.”

“He doesn’t always pick dark and mysterious.”

“No but he’s definitely got a type.” Without segue, the demon refocuses on the game, “Menu?”

“Tuna salads all around.”

“Oh come on, don’t try to lose on purpose. You know Captain White Castle Von Munchie is going to get a burger or three.”  
Even for a stoner, the ex-angel can pack it away.

“It counts if he eats off of Dean’s plate.”

Doug scoffs.

Tim ignores him, “What topic is going to come up first?”

Doug only has a short interval to respond before the waiter is nearly done taking their orders and the conversation starts;  
“First, Dean complains about the quality of the establishment. Then, normally he’d ask if they can’t just leave and find somewhere better, but today he seems like he’s in a good mood so instead he might go into a brief motivational speech about their next hunt.”  
Dean clears his throat in preparation to speak just as Doug finishes.

“You forgot the part where he speculatively complains about the food before it gets to the table.”

“I’ll give you that. Who insults Dean first?”

Tim rolls his eyes, “ _Sam_ , it’s always Sam.”

Doug points his knife at Tim with meaningfully raised brows, “Not always.”

“That was a fluke, and Castiel immediately followed it with a raunchy flirtation.”

“While I’m going to steal your point since it does serve to prove mine, I was referring to the times Dean insulted _himself_ before anyone else had a chance to.”

Tim resentfully – and wordlessly – concedes. He’d never give Doug that satisfaction of acknowledging such an event. So he changes the topic. “I grant myself double points because Dean’s about to very obviously sneak a fry off of Castiel’s plate.”

“On what grounds?”

“They’re both eating the other’s food, which I called early on, and they’ve done so multiple times already.”

Doug tuts.

“It will happen again. Triple or nothing,” Tim insists. Those points are _his_.

“Fine. Sam’s going to end up kicking Dean for it though.”

"I'd expect nothing less." Tim sips his water, "The waiter's back with their drinks."

"Mmm, looks like Castiel is angling to make Dean jealous."  
The ex-angel fidgets in his seat and casts furtive glances across the room as the waiter makes his way towards their table.

"When _isn't_ he? No, I still say Dean makes the first move."

"We'll see."

Castiel grows visibly more alert as the server approaches but when he reaches the table, Dean's attention snaps with practiced ease from his phone up to the brunet. He smiles charmingly. Even as Castiel opens his mouth to say something, Dean's already made a joke and put a rosy smile on the waiter's face.

"Damn," the demon mutters.

Tim is kind enough to hide his smile. 

When he and Doug look over again, Dean is laughing, then saying something else. Castiel shuts his mouth in what must be a third or fourth attempt at getting a word in edgewise. The waiter holds the drink tray demurely in front of him and a blush colors his cheeks. Every now and then he laughs at something Dean says, and shifts from foot to foot.

"Dean is terrible at pretending he has little to no interest in men," Tim remarks. "This flirting is bordering on obscene."

"Who calls him out on it?"

"Castiel. His plan has been spoiled and turned on him. But Sam will join in immediately."

They watch Sam roll his eyes and yawn rudely. Dean pays him no mind but the waiter's eyes flick over and he does a double-take. Then he seems to realize a third member is present at the table and he glances between the three of them. 

Tim scoffs, "Someone's going home with his number. Look at the way he's drooling over them all."

"Alright, who?"

"... I'll get back to you on that."

"Sam would do it out of spite. Take the man from Dean as retribution for ruining his meal."

"'Ruining' is a bit harsh. This isn't nearly as bad as two weeks back in Montana."

"Is Montana so different from Washington?"

Tim gives him a look and Doug holds a palm up, defensively, " _Rhetoical_." Doug clears his throat, "There is a threshold to Sam's tolerance, and though Montana was worse, this is also past that imaginary line. He'll break any minute."

"We'll see about that."

Doug points, "Dean just jumped. Who does he glare at when the waiter walks away?"

"Castiel definitely elbowed him. He didn't react as much when Sam kicked his leg earlier."

"Sam hasn't kicked him yet. I would have noticed. Dean's always melodramatic whenever he has the opportunity."

"He was expecting it then," Tim continues, ignoring him, "He knew he'd earned it."

Doug rolls his eyes. "Don't make things up."

"That's all we ever do with them. Besides, I think it's easy enough to read them after spending so long observing them."

"Alright, if you know them so well, then tell me what the first thing Sam is going to say when the waiter leaves."

 

As is typical for them, it escalates to where there ceases to be any break between conjectures in order to tally points. The waitress bringing the check doesn’t even disturb their easy back-and-forth. They only hush their voices when the objects of their observations have gotten up to leave.

 

The two of them watch the door close before they stand, pulling out their wallets to pay the check.

“So who won?”

The demon shrugs, “Beats me.”

“We really should come up with a better way to track points.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on one with Gabriel (Powerfulweak helped me with that a little too) as well as a surprise one but both should be coming this January
> 
> Exits are to your left, your right, and your rear, restrooms are to the front, Kudos and comments are found below, and as always, very appreciated. Thank you for flying Air fem-castielnovak.


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